


There is Nowhere in This World I'd Rather Be; Big Bang Fic: SnowBaz

by fell_in_love_didnt_you



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 15:06:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18100916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fell_in_love_didnt_you/pseuds/fell_in_love_didnt_you
Summary: Simon drags Penny and Micah along to a concert his father unfortunately couldn't go to. It's not like you could say no to a band who gave you backstage passes for free and insisted on thanking you for giving them a start, right? What Simon doesn't know is that the lead vocalist is hot as hell and can take it as well as he gives it. With the band leaving in a matter of hours, is it enough time to start a new relationship? Or is Baz just another hot guy walking out of his life?





	There is Nowhere in This World I'd Rather Be; Big Bang Fic: SnowBaz

The bus lurched underneath Baz’s feet, and he hastily tried to grasp his hot tea before it spilled over him. However, the scolding liquid made its way out of the cup and onto his hand. Baz shouted a curse and went to run his hand under water before he realized they’re not hooked up to water anymore. 

Great fucking start to the day. 

The weather was horrible outside of London, and Baz wished they’d just decided to skip over this leg of the tour. He knows it’s horrible; hell, they originated in London! Baz was eternally grateful for the first pub manager that ever allowed them to take setup in the corner of the grimy room, and the band even sent him three tickets with backstage passes for free. Baz just wished that the pub had been six-hundred kilometers to the north. 

The bus rolled again, and Baz caught himself on the counter. 

“You gotta be a little less clumsy,” Dev called from his bunk. Baz turned to see the blue velvet curtain swing back to reveal the cocky bastard’s grin. “If you fall off the stage or some shit, you, and the band by extension, will turn into the Iggy Azalea of music.” 

Niall’s curtain rolled back next. “I thought Iggy Azalea was the Iggy Azalea of music.” Then the conversation warped into one of Dev saying Iggy Azalea is just another Jenner and Niall saying she was a goddess, and Baz really had had enough of tour talk. 

He stalked back to the large bedroom. He slept in it because of his back, and Dev, Niall, and Agatha took up the bunks. Baz really would’ve thought Agatha would have feel more comfortable with a bedroom, but she had insisted it would be fine. It’s not like she wasn’t best friends with the both of them anyway. 

Baz shut the door and jumped onto the bed. It was definitely not as good as the one in his flat, but the other guys didn’t have permanent places in London and fans were fucking crazy. If they even had an inkling of where his flat was, he’d have to basically move country. 

Anyway, the bed was fine, and there were no windows in here, so the room was dark enough for sleep at any time of morning, afternoon, or night. It even had a little bathroom (possibly worse than the one outside the door) in the corner. This was definitely one of the best buses Baz has been on in a long time. The one in America just constantly smelled of takeout, though they could be to blame for that. The tour bus in the Netherlands was great comfort-wise, but it barely fit the four band members and the driver. They had to rent a second and third for management. Usually, it was just two ugly black buses following each other on the road, and in the Netherlands with their tiny roads and winding streets, it was not a good situation. 

Being back in London should have made him happy. It was all familiar: stop-and-go traffic, car horns, and brightly lit streets with crappy Chinese takeout around every corner. Hell, even the smell was just as he remembered: gas with a hint of roadkill. However, the whole thing was making Baz’s stomach flip. People at the concert tonight would probably be people he’s grown up with. The one thing no one told him about being pretty well-known is how often you’d need to change your mobile number. Last week someone who picked on him at primary school hit him up for free tickets, and one blocked number later, Baz was feeling apprehensive about the whole thing.

Being home shouldn’t worry him. Baz’s dad was taking care of everything: the food deliveries to the truck, the insane amount of alcohol for the after-party, and the bouncer for that. London was going to be their biggest concert of the entire tour. A hometown concert with a free shirt at the door because that’s how much surplus money they’d made on those damn tickets. 

Baz rolled over and placed his head into the pillow. Damn, this was going to be a long day. 

…

“I just don’t understand why I’ve got to go with you,” Penny yelled from her room. Simon was crouched in front of the television, trying to figure out which cable he’d ripped out hooked up the telly to the box beneath it. “I mean,” she continued, “they make nice music and everything, and those tickets rock, but why doesn’t your dad take his weird girlfriend?” 

“Ebb is not weird,” Simon retorted, placing a red wire with a circular end into a square hole. “She’s cool. And my dad and Ebb don’t enjoy that type of music. And the tickets were free!” Simon finally gave up on the damned box and slouched back into the sofa. “We can’t not use them!” 

Penny exited her room with her work uniform on and a bag with her clothes for the concert over her shoulder. “I get that, but Micah doesn’t even like Wavering Wood. He says they make his ears hurt.” 

Simon chuckled at that. Of course Micah didn’t like them. The most punk-rock he got was listening to the new Taylor Swift album or maybe some EDM chick who was famous online. 

“He doesn’t have to come,” Simon supplied. Penny gave him a stare that basically said, ‘If I’m suffering, he is, too.’ Simon raised his hands in mock surrender and added, “Maybe he’ll enjoy himself. We’ll be backstage for the first part, and if he wants to stay there, he can. They have better seating there than in the front anyways.” 

Penny smiled her uniquely Penny smile and pulled her fluffy hair back into a bun. It uncovered the record shop’s logo. Watford Magic. It was a weird little shop that sold, among other things, amethyst crystals, juul pods, tie-dyed shirts, and love spells.

“I’ll see you at seven outside the stadium,” she replied, opening the door and shouting a goodbye before it closed behind her. Simon genuinely hoped she would enjoy herself tonight. 

…

Honestly, Baz would have boycotted his own band’s concert of he could have. 

The set up and sound test had made him want to cut his own ears off. He was strictly prohibited from having a smoke break or having a drink to lighten his spirits before the show. Dev and Niall were beginning to ruin each other’s spirits with their antics, and Agatha just sat through the whole thing with a blank expression. The only thing that had gone right was the concession stands; Baz had bought something from at least ten of them. 

Agatha came up and rested her hand on his shoulders about an hour before they had to go under the stadium and get ready. “Just think of this as one step closer to a six-month break.” 

Six-month break? Yeah, right, Baz thought. It was never a break when you had to get everything in line to go global again. Six months of more practicing, more restringing his guitar, and more learning new songs to cover so they wouldn’t play the same set every night. 

But he didn’t say that. Baz just said, “Yeah,” with a fake smile and a nod. Agatha got up to go back to tapping her symbols. Dev and Niall had calmed down and were now playing with their respective instruments: a keyboard and a bass. Maybe Baz really was just being a downer here. He knew it was the place and not his bandmates, but they were so easy to point blame at sometimes. He really had to work on that. 

As Baz walked by the boys to pick up his acoustic and tune it, he heard Dev say, “There’s gonna be a major storm tonight. Hope it doesn’t blow out the hotel’s cable.” 

Baz rolled his eyes and laughed silently. 

…

Simon’s feet fucking ached. Converse were not a great option for standing in line waiting for VIP tickets to be checked. Honestly, he should have assumed security would be longer and more extensive here. Why wouldn’t it be? People getting too friendly with a celeb and then stalking them for the rest of their lives? It was more common than it should’ve been.

He and Penny stuck out like sore thumbs. Everyone surrounding them was covered head-to-toe in black leather and ink. Simon had been pointedly staring at a skull tattooed on the back of someone’s head for a long time until Penny had said it was rude, to which Simon replied, “He can’t see me; he doesn’t have eyes.” 

Penny’s non-dyed hair was a dead giveaway that they didn’t belong. Micah was in a blazer and had his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. Hell, he looked so nerdy that Simon felt the need to ask the quadratic formula. Simon’s acid-washed jeans and graphic-tee was the closest thing to Wavering Wood concert-goer any of them had reached. 

The bouncer at the door looked them up and down and frowned. Yeah, they were out of place. The guy scanned the tickets that Simon had nearly destroyed in his pocket and instructed them to the left of the red rope, where no one else had been told to go. Every eyelinered and tattooed person on the right of the rope looked at them with a mix of shock and anger. Okay, so what? Maybe they had better tickets? Maybe their tickets weren’t available to the general public. 

Simon pulled out his phone and read over what his dad had told him to say. Thank you and we’re so happy you’re here and blah, blah, blah… Geez, you let one band play in the back of your pub and suddenly they’re the Queen or something. Another bouncer greeted them, and they were let through another door. Man, it was really starting to feel like meeting the damn Queen. 

As the door opened, Penny and Micah slid in front of Simon to meet the first few members. Penny had looked up all their names, and Simon was instructed to follow along, play nice, and then eat all the snacks from the corner while no one was looking. Okay, maybe Penny didn’t know about that last part, but it should’ve been assumed. 

A girl with strikingly blonde hair dressed in a deep maroon dress stood from the couch. Two other boys followed. Simon recognized them as the drums, bass, and piano player for the band. Where was this main guy his dad wanted him to talk to?

“We’re very glad the tickets got through, but we were expecting a Mr. Snow?” the girl asked. What was her name? Penny had said it before. Abagail…Anna…Apple? 

“Oh,” Penny said quickly, moving to the side to show Simon, “this is his son. He couldn’t make it tonight but wanted us to come and thank you for him.” 

The girl seemed to look Simon over with a more careful eye than the security guard did before she said, “Well, we’re glad the tickets reached someone.” She extended her right hand. “I’m Agatha.” 

There it was, Simon thought as he shook her hand. The other boys introduced themselves. The one with dyed-orange hair said his name was Niall and the other with a pierced bottom lip said he was Dev. 

Penny and Micah began to exchange casualties with them, and when food was offered, Simon made a beeline for that damn table. Crisps, cookies, Maltesers… the only thing that could have made it better was if there were scones like Ebb made with sour cherries and butter spread across the top, but this wasn’t a bed and breakfast. Simon knew that. 

“Pardon me for asking,” Micah began, “but isn’t there a fourth member?” 

“He’s ‘prepping’,” Dev said with large air quotes and a laugh. “Takes him, like, an hour before each show to actually show his damn face.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” a voice sounded from a separate door in the room. Simon looked up from his phone then and saw this apparent fourth member he’d been looking for. 

…

Baz didn’t know the guests were there yet. If he had, he wouldn’t have cursed out Dev in front of them. Just because he wasn’t a people-pleaser didn’t mean he had no manners. He was not raised in a barn, after all. He apologized immediately to the girl and her…boyfriend? He was really out of place here. This guy was as prim and proper as they got at a concert like this. Hell, the band was supposed to be the fanciest, and Baz had a black tee on with a few holes at the neck. This guy had a blazer, scarf, and button-up. At his own concert, Baz felt underdressed. 

The girl was slightly more fitting. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and she had on black jeans and a nice shirt. Still royally out of place, but not as much as her date. Shit, the guy made him want to giggle. 

And there was a third at the back. A third with golden hair and blue eyes and moles, and Baz liked him more than the last two exponentially. He felt his throat tighten along with maybe his jeans because this guy’s smile was so pretty and it was offered to him so willingly in greeting. In fact, Baz was staring at that smile so hard, he missed the guy’s name altogether. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Baz asked in a way that sounded more harsh than necessary. 

“Simon,” the boy said, extending his hand, “I’m Simon Snow.” Snow. Snow. SNOW. This was Mr. Snow’s son or something. 

“Oh,” Baz replied, meeting the handshake. His ice-cold hands melted under Simon’s. He smiled at Simon not because of this but because that name just sounded straight out of a fantasy book. Simon Snow and the Great Adventures Through Hell or something maybe less depressing. Was that possible? He also looked like a guy from one of these novels. Only this was real life, and this hero was in front of him. 

“My father told me to thank you for the tickets,” Simon finally said, and Baz’s hand ached at the loss of the warmth. “He couldn’t be here because of a prior engagement, so he sent us. This is Penny and Micah.” Simon indicated his friends, and Baz smiled and shook hands with them, too, though Simon’s hands felt warmer and better. 

“Anything for the guy who gave us our start,” Niall said, popping a stray Malteser into his mouth. Baz nodded and sighed a little bit. His cheeks were heating up a little, and he pressed the palms of his hands onto them. 

Their manager came in to tell them they had ten minutes to finish up, and Baz turned mostly to Simon to say, “We’ve reserved seats for you in front of the stage, or you could stay beside stage and watch.” 

Simon looked at his friends, and they shrugged their shoulders. Simon then turned to reply. “We’ll stay beside stage and watch.” Then, when his friends couldn’t hear, Simon added, “Micah’s a little bit of a baby when it comes to noise.” Baz chuckled and placed his hand on Simon’s shoulder before he went to Agatha to get ready. 

His night was beginning to get better. 

…

Simon was flushed for the entirety of the concert. Every time he would look up, Baz would look over at him during the songs. It felt like his entire body was on fire. He couldn’t remember feeling like this in a long time. 

Penny noticed, and when Micah went away to buy earplugs, she leaned over and shouted above the music, “So you gonna fuck or what?” 

Simon choked on his tongue, and Penny laughed in response. Simon rubbed at his suddenly dry throat and tried to laugh, too, but he couldn’t say he didn’t like the idea. 

It felt like the concert was over too fast. The band was coming back to the room where they had first met, and Penny, Simon, and Micah were all invited. Back. Agatha helped Dev open a champagne bottle, and Niall opted out for a Ribena instead. 

And when the night finally seemed like it was over, Simon was a bit fuzzy on the edges. He was stumbling slightly over his feet, and just before he could go, he pulled Baz aside. 

“I wanna see you again,” he said as he hastily drew his number on the back of Baz’s hand with his name above it. Simon giggled as he dotted his ‘i’ with a heart. Baz chuckled back. 

…

Baz did want to see this boy again. Simon was leaning against the wall and laughing like writing his number was the funniest thing he’d ever done. His handwriting was shit, and Baz could hardly distinguish a four from a nine. 

“I want to see you again,” Simon said again, but the giggle was gone. Baz could smell the liquor on his breath. It was lingering on his own, too. Agatha hadn’t spared a pence when she bought off the top shelf. A cup had alone had gotten him fuzzy. 

Baz took hold of Simon’s hand firmer, and when Simon looked up from his bad penmanship, Baz leaned in and kissed him. They were both a little sauced, but the kiss felt like it sobered him up. It wasn’t fast or sloppy; Simon’s lips were soft against his chapped ones and warm where his were cold. 

And then Simon opened his mouth and slipped his tongue in, and Baz pulled back. He was still holding onto Simon’s hand when he pulled him close and said, “Come to my room with me.” 

And Simon nodded. 

…

There was an ache low in Baz’s lower back when he rolled over the next morning. He was exhausted from the previous night, and, honest to God, he tried to sleep in, but this whole tour thing had gotten him on the internal clock of an infant: wake at three a.m. and scream until someone comes to talk to you. 

Baz expected a warm body to be dipping the mattress next to him, but as he reached out, his hand moved through the ghost of cold air next to him. He sat up then, hissing only afterwards because, holy shit, last night was great. He fumbled to turn the bedside lamp on, but when he did, Baz realized he was right: there was no one next to him. Instead, there looked to be a hastily written note that he could barely make out to say ‘thank you’ with a smiley face and a number. 

That shouldn’t have made him as happy as it does. Simon Snow. It sounded like the name a superhero would have. To be honest, Simon looked like a superhero. Baz folded the note and put it in his pocket as he put on the shed clothes from last night. The room was a god-awful mess. The sheets were half-off the bed, his clothes and shoes were strewn about with no care, and if Baz didn’t get out of there soon, he was pretty sure a noise complaint would be filed. 

It was good he didn’t unpack, though. They had an early flight to catch, and although it was Baz’s idea to get a hotel room, it really wasn’t that good of one. He needed to call an Uber and get back to his bus as soon as possible so they can do an early check-in at the airport and get to their pre-booked private room. 

Baz winced down the hall to the elevator and dragged his suitcase behind him. All-in-all, this wasn’t a bad way to spend two days in the hometown he was dreading to be back in. The concert went off without a hitch, he got in a good lay, and now he could go on and have fonder memories of this place. Fonder memories of golden hair and absurdly blue eyes and freckled skin. How could a person have that many moles? 

He needed to stop thinking about it before he blushed any harder in the elevator next to an elderly woman who smelled of cigarettes and bad perfume. 

…

Maybe he should’ve stayed. 

Simon shook his head as he wiped down a mug. He really hated when girls with bright red lipstick asked for ceramic. Didn’t they know that shit was hard to clean? Did they just not care? To be fair, it was giving him time away from the front where someone was asking for an insanely difficult drink with soy instead of whole and non-dairy foam instead of whipped cream and blah, blah, blah…

Maybe he was keen on wiping these mugs clean because Simon was desperately trying to think of anything but the shag he’d had last night. It had been his first good lay in a long time. Probably his first good lay ever considering the only other people he’d ever had sex with were his ex-girlfriend and a couple of randoms from grindr. 

An incoming plane from the airport a block away caused Simon to jump. It was his least favorite part of the job. The mugs would shake on the walls and if the people at the tables weren’t regulars, they’d start freaking out and demanding to know if they were being attacked. 

Today, it was three regulars at a table in the corner and a new girl with her headphones turned up so loudly that Simon could hear the ear-pounding music. 

Once the plane passed, Simon could let his thoughts wander in silence once again. And, of course, his thoughts wandered to long, black hair and tanned skin and chipped fingernail polish. That was probably the weirdest thing for him to have noticed, but Simon can remember the smirk on his face after Baz had pressed his palm against Simon’s chest. Chipped fingernail polish had caught Simon more off-guard than having sex with a Rockstar had. 

And he’d left his number like an idiot. Why had he expected a Rockstar to text him after a one-time lay? It was a dream, if anything, for someone like that to even want to even remotely want to contact him. Simon wanted to call him, but he’d left before the sun could even come up. The ‘walk of shame’ back to his and Penny’s apartment had been filled with smiles and a good high before Simon caught the low and sunk to his couch, his brain filled with worry and anxiety over the past few hours of activity. 

But there was still that nagging voice in the back of Simon’s head that said, “Well, what if he does call?” And because Simon couldn’t stop his daydreams, he imagined seeing Baz again but this time not at a concert. He wanted to see Baz in everyday life. He wanted to keep talking to this mysterious man in the band. He wanted to know the reason behind some of the lyrics they sang and the life of a touring band and what Baz’s favorite food was and so much more. 

Simon wanted so much more than he was ever going to get. 

…

“Fucking hell!” Agatha yelled into the phone. Baz held his head up in his hand as he took a bite of a vending machine-granola bar. “No, Mrs. Pomfrey, there’s no plane until tomorrow morning.” There was a silence as Mrs. Pomfrey responded. Then Agatha said, “Well, I wanted to get back to Ireland so we could immediately start working on new stuff.”

Baz stopped listening. Was he supposed to be stressed? Yeah, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he had another twenty-four hours left to be here. Another twenty-four hours to call back Simon Snow, the crazy superhero-named boy who looked like he’d hopped straight out of a YA fantasy movie.

So, what was Baz supposed to really do with the next 24 hours of his life? He couldn’t really send a message to this boy. It was a one-time deal. That’s how every hook-up was. 

That background voice asked, “Then why did he leave his number, Baz?” And, sure, that was a valid point, but…

But what? There wasn’t anything else to say. He’d left his number. He wanted to talk. Or he at least wanted to go another round or something. Any interaction with Simon Snow would be worth it. 

So, Baz pulled out that little sticky note from his pocket, typed the number into his cell phone, and sent a simple message. “Hey.” 

Why was he so nervous? There was nothing to be nervous about. 

It took a few minutes for the phone to buzz again. 

“Hey. Who is this? Sorry, the number isn’t saved.” 

God, Baz thought. Simon Snow was so posh when he texted. The thought had Baz biting his cheek to withhold a smile. “It’s Baz from last night. My flight got delayed. Wanna get coffee or something?” 

The next reply took no time at all. 

“Anything but coffee,” Simon responded. Baz couldn’t hold in his little chuckle. “I’m working at the little coffeeshop by the airport, so just meet me there at the end of my shift at ten?”

Baz’s cheeks were flushed. “And then what?” he asked. 

The three little bubble dots stayed up for a few moments. “Then dinner at mine?” 

And somehow that was better than just another lay. 

…

Simon waited out in the rain under his umbrella, waiting to see Baz come up. He didn’t know what to expect. Was Baz gothic outside of his band? Simon certainly wasn’t expecting bright yellows or a tie-dye shirt or anything, but would his look be as dark and full of makeup as it had been the previous night? It was just as dark at ten in the night, but would it be different?

Well, a light grey shirt and joggers wasn’t too bad, right? Baz’s hair was a little mussed like it had been before, but there was no gel present, and he seemed more relaxed than before the show. He had large circles under his eyes, and his converse smacked the ground and created little splashes as he ran to the front of the store where Simon was waiting. 

Under the umbrella, Simon was very aware of the thick silence that enveloped them. He could feel the blood rising to his cheeks and his heart beginning to speed up with anxiety. 

Finally, Baz broke the silence. “So, dinner?” 

Simon smiled and let out a little anxious laughter. “Yeah,” he replied. “It’s a long walk, so I ordered an Uber. Hope that’s okay.” Baz huffed a mixture between ‘yeah, I don’t give a shit’ and ‘sure, my feet hurt’. That was a relief. If Baz had decided to walk to the apartment, they’d have a nice ten miles to go. Running ten miles would maybe get them there at four in the morning. 

The Uber ride was mostly silent. Simon didn’t know how to really act in this kind of situation. He’d only have a few hookups in his lifetime, and they’d never tried to connect with him afterwards. Was this really different from his other hook ups? Obviously, this aspect was. Had Baz really wanted to hang out again as much as Simon had wanted to? Was it obvious that he wanted this to happen again? Maybe longer than a two-night-stand?

The Uber was short. Traffic was usually terrible at night. Maybe God was on his side this time. A long car ride would only encourage awkwardness. This way, they could get back to the apartment where there was good food and clothes could either come off or stay on. No pressure. 

However, Penny had gotten the late shift off. That might’ve been good news for Simon to have had a few hours ago. She had her head bent over a large pot full of boiling water and only gasped when she turned and saw the two of them by the doorway. 

“I thought you had the late shift?” Simon asked. 

“And I thought you had a bad track record with dating,” she replied, stepping away from the pot and coming to hug Baz. That was the part that shocked Simon. “Are you staying for dinner?” she asked. 

“Only if that’s alright with you,” Baz answered. Simon noticed a blush high on Baz’s cheeks and could feel his own ears turn red. 

Penny laughed and said, “That’s perfectly fine with me. I hope you like bad cooking!” 

And bad cooking it was. The pasta burned to the bottom of the pan, and they ended up getting Indian takeaway from the place two blocks down from their apartment. Penny graciously offered to go get it, leaving Simon and Baz once again were left in silence.

Simon broke it this time. “Why did you decide to text?” 

Baz quirked his eyebrows together and said, “My flight was delayed until the storm was over. It’s not like I had anything else to do.” 

Simon sat down on the couch opposite Baz and said, “Well, yeah, but you didn’t have to spend it with me.” There was silence as Baz avoided his eyes and picked at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “So, why did you really decide to text me?” 

Baz’s mouth did a little thing where it quirked to the side before he said, “Because I thought you were interesting last night at the concert.” He smiled again as he added, “And I really did haven nothing to do.” 

“You could’ve practiced with your band,” Simon suggested. 

“I was a bit fed up with them at the airport,” Baz replied. “Sharing a bus with them is sometimes too much, so just imagine being stuck with three frustrated people trying to practice a fine art.”

Simon snorted and said, “Rock-metal is not a fine art!” 

“It so is!” Baz retorted, shoving Simon gently in the shoulder. There was a silence after that that was much more comfortable than the one before. 

Penny got back with Indian takeaway just a few moments later, and they all sat in the living room stuffing their faces full of way too spicy food. There was easy conversation about the band and the tour and how much it took to design merch. 

And when Penny said goodnight and finally retired to her bedroom at twelve-thirty, there really wasn’t a silence anymore. They continued the topic about which pop star was the rudest person (spoiler, it was Katy Perry) and who had been the nicest and who they’d met in the weirdest setting possible. The only celebrity Simon had ever seen was Emma Watson getting out of her car to go into the airport. It wasn’t really a very interesting story. 

“I wish your flight wasn’t in a few hours,” Simon confessed. “I wish you were just another guy and not a superstar.” 

“I am just some guy,” Baz insisted. “Only difference is I happen to be asked for photos in public places.” 

Simon scoffed and shook his head. “I just meant that I wish you weren’t going.” 

Baz nodded his head. And then he said, “Just come with me, then.” 

Simon scoffed again. If hanging out with Baz meant he was going to be scoffing a lot, then he needed to invest in some cough drops now. “Yeah. Right. Like I could just get on a plane with a guy I met yesterday.” 

“I’m serious,” Baz insisted, taking hold of Simon’s hand across the couch. “Come with me. You have a passport, right?” Simon nodded. “Then come. We’re going back to Ireland.” 

Simon shook his head and tried to form a cohesive thought. Had he really just been invited to Ireland by a guy that had probably slept his way through Europe? Would Simon just be forgotten at the next stop on tour? Did he even really want to go?

Yes, obviously. 

There wasn’t really time to think, though. Baz had apparently gotten nervous and decided that having sex was a good way to divert the conversation. Well, Simon would be damned if he didn’t at least go along with this. 

…

Baz sulked in the car ride to the airport. He shouldn’t have even been sulking. Of course Simon Snow was not going to want to come to Ireland with a guy he’d just met. 

When he’d gotten out of the cab and met up with everyone inside, they didn’t even bother to ask where he’d disappeared to or why he looked so pissed. There wasn’t any reason to. Baz was always pissy in the mornings, and even if it didn’t go away by the next few months, as long as they continued to work on music and plan the next press tour, then who would give a fuck? 

Baz threw his shit down in the bin and began to unlace his shoes. There was a tap on his shoulders, and without looking up he snappily responded with, “Fuck off, Agatha. I’m not in the mood.” 

“Geez,” said a voice that wasn’t Agatha’s or any of his bandmates. “I just wanted to know how much a plane to Ireland would cost.” Baz made contact with those shitty Converse and felt a smirk grow across his face. 

He looked up and said, “A plane to Ireland with me is free on your part.” 

Simon smiled down at him, and the little backpack over his shoulder which presumably held his essentials made Baz even happier. “I hear the weather this time of year is gross.” 

“It’ll be better with you there,” Baz said as he stood without his shoes on. “Are you sure you wanna get on a plane with a guy you just met?” 

Simon sighed and replied with, “Penny and the police are just a phone call away.” 

And Baz laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Two lovely pieces of art go with this fic that can be found at these links:   
> http://thejanewestin.tumblr.com/post/183415594132/for-fell-in-love-didnt-you   
> http://thejanewestin.tumblr.com/post/183397541987/for-a-yet-unposted-au-thank-you


End file.
